Console Mischief
by needsausername
Summary: When you play on the PC, you have a certain thing called a console. But have you ever wondered what other people think about the guy that's definitely batshit insane running around and killing people? Or have you ever wondered what it looks like from the outside of someone in badass armor that's struggling to carry some flowers? I offer my take.
1. Chapter 1: Unbound

A/N: This story is going to be almost purely comedy, about having mischief with the console, as the title could _possibly_ perhaps suggest. Drop a review saying which command you want next, and I'll try it. The story will be told from a third-person omniscient perspective. It'll be people reacting to the Dragonborn's mischief with commands. I will also include whatever funny mods I want.

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Hi! It's me, you. You're like, "what?" right now, but I promise you I'll clear things up soon. What're you gonna name your character? Just kidding, you're an Altmer named Abelas. Moving on…

* * *

"You're not with the Thalmor Embassy, are you, high elf? No, that can't be right…" Hadvar trailed off as he looked at the person who had just changed appearances maybe fifty times. His head was spinning. First, he saw the… thing in front of him change races, from Breton to Nord to Dunmer, until finally settling on an Altmer. Then all the facial features moved, from eyes which went all the way under the mouth which was pushed up hilariously to the nose to a very typical mean guy that you would meet in the tavern as a mercenary. Then the hair flew all over the place and he went from bald to waist-level to shoulder-length to bob until remaining at a messy perm. Then he got super fat and then went to bones until he stayed at a medium build. Scars were all over the place too. He went from "snowflake who's never fought in his life" to "ouch, that was a bad gash" to "cat owner" in a matter of seconds. It was intriguing.

"Um, captain, he's not on the list."

"Forget the list. He goes to the block."

"By your orders, Captain. Follow the captain, prisoner."

It was at this point that Tullius spoke up. "Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like The Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne."

Ulfric just grunted through the gag.

"You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace."

A fearsome but distant roar pierced the air. "What was that?" asked Hadvar.

Tullius remained calm. "It's nothing. Carry on."

The Priestess of Arkay began her long speech. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved…"

The man to be executed yelled, "For the love of Talos, _shut up_ and let's get this over with."

"As you wish."

"Come on, I haven't got all morning. My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" The axe came down and just as soon as the blood spurted, the man's head was rolling in the box, healthy with fresh blood. The eyes were blinking, but the life was fading.

Various things were yelled. "You Imperial bastards!" "Justice!" "Death to the Stormcloaks!" "As fearless in death as he was in life." The last one was contributed by Ralof, who was not excited about watching any more of these.

The Captain wasn't wasting any time, though. "Next, the high elf!"

Abelas waited as another roar pierced the air.

Hadvar felt the need to comment again. "There it is again. Did you hear that?"

"I said, _next prisoner_!"

"To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy."

Abelas sadly but silently plodded up to the block.

The next roar felt a little bit closer. They saw why in five seconds when a block of squares appeared, and shifted multiple times between a smiling blue cart with a chimney coming out of the top to a comical human with ridiculously long arms, tiny shorts, and squiggles on dark glass attached to his eyes via a long white rigid pair of arms that held to his "ears". The next roar wasn't really a roar. It kept phasing between the sound of steam being passed through a small opening, although a bit lower, and a raspy human yell. They seemed to be paired with the cart and the "human", respectively.

Ralof was terrified, but he had to act quickly. Whoever this person was that was changing features didn't do anything wrong. He probably would've been executed and it might've been justified, even from those Imperial dogs, but this high elf was not wrong. He probably was a refugee who just happened to run into the area where they were ambushed. In any case, he wasn't a Stormcloak soldier. "Come with me, elf! Get up! The gods won't give us another chance!"

They both ran into the tower, where Ulfric was waiting for them.

"Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?"

The original Stormcloak was quick in his reply. "Legends don't burn down villages. We need to move. Now!"

"Up through the tower. Let's go!"

Some Stormcloak said about his comrades, "They're hurt, but they'll live. Another second out there with the dragon, and they'd both be dead…"

"Let's go! With me, up the tower!"

Another one piped up. "We just need to move some of these rocks to clear the way!"

At this point they were all desperate. Then the ugly smiling cart/stupid-looking human/thing poked its head through the hole in the wall that it had just made, killing one Stormcloak soldier. Ralof saw the inn, and knew only one of them could make it in the time they had. "See the inn on the other side? Jump through; we'll follow when we can!"

Abelas took a leap of faith… and missed. He was right in the path of the dragon, but he just casually took the blow and slammed the creature to the ground with one hand. It immediately roared fire at him (although it sounded more like a whimper) and flew away. Ralof held his breath, and… whatever his name was (Abraham?) was just standing there. He walked over to Hadvar, whom Ralof recognized, and then ran with him.

Hadvar couldn't believe what he just saw, but he needed to survive. The small child, though… he couldn't just leave the small child there. "Haming, you need to get over here. Now! Torolf!" However, Torolf never heard his words as he was bludgeoned by what Hadvar thought was a dragon's head. "Gods... Everyone get back!"

Alduin was now using his Fire Breath shout.

"Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way. Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join their defense," Hadvar yelled.

"Gods guide you, Hadvar," said Gunnar, wishing him luck.

"Stay close to the wall!"

Abelas did not heed his words, however, and ran straight into Alduin's Fire Breath. This didn't faze him, though. He just stood there, as if the "breeze" was comforting. Hadvar, remaining shocked, found quickly his as-yet leashed talent of hiding terror. "Quickly, follow me!"

General Tullius was waiting there. "Hadvar! Into the keep, soldier, we're leaving!"

Ralof had caught up by now. Hadvar didn't look too happy about it. "It's you and me, prisoner. Stay close! Ralof! You damned traitor. Out of my way!"

Ralof retained his gritty resolve. "We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time."

"Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde," he spat back.

Instead of continuing to argue, probably getting them all killed, Ralof said to Abelas, "You! Come on, into the keep!"

Reluctantly, Abelas trotted over to Hadvar. (A/N: IMPERIALS ALL THE WAY BABY!) Ralof felt betrayed, but he understood. Running into the keep, he disappeared, not to be seen again until the final battle.

Hadvar wasted no time inside the keep. Cutting Abelas' restraints, he threw him a suit of armor. They lay on the ground until they disappeared and then reappeared on his body. He gave Abelas some food, and then ran to arm him. He was right-handed. Hadvar threw him a shield and then ran through the keep. Abelas suddenly attacked him. For some reason, he didn't fight back, and it didn't hurt. He kept attacking him until his arm became so buff that his bicep was probably larger than his head. It didn't matter to him, except that it was taking pretty long. Maybe fifteen months or so. Whatever, Alduin was still out there apparently. Now Abelas started casting a fire spell on him. Again, it didn't hurt for some reason. He had been going for five minutes now. When was he going to run out of magicka?

Another fifteen months later, Abelas finally stopped and ran out where he was met by a bunch of Stormcloaks. He shook off blow after blow as he just bashed their heads with his bare knuckles. He was fighting them naked, apparently, as he took all of them down with remarkable strength. Not only that, but his skin seemed to be made out of dragon scales, because their swords were doing nothing to draw even a semblance of a scratch on his skin. As the last one fell, he brushed himself off. Turning to Hadvar, he beckoned him forward. Although slightly trembling, Hadvar walked. Then he ran to the next room, with the same method of defeating the soldiers. He put some clothes on as he realized that they were going to the torturer.

Being a torturer, the man didn't have the most pleasant demeanor. He spoke in an almost douchey voice, "You fellows happened along just in time. These boys seemed a bit 'upset' at how I've been entertaining their comrades."

Hadvar, on the other hand, was quite panicked. "Don't you even know what's going on? A dragon is attacking Helgen!"

"A dragon?" he snorted, "please, don't make up nonsense." He paused, apparently thinking of something. "Although, come to think of it, I did hear some odd noises coming from over there."

"Come with us. We need to get out of here."

"You have no authority over me, boy."

"Didn't you hear me? I said the keep is under attack!"

At this point, his assistant spoke up. "Forget the old man. I'll come with you." He was handed a sword and then thrown a pile of armor that probably weighed as much as he did. He collapsed. Abelas raised a hand to a half "oh", half-smirk that signified at least a semblance of remorse.

He picked the locks with ease and took the mage's robes. Leaving the place, he took a longbow and instead of fitting an arrow to the strings, bashed people with the bow and stabbed them with arrows. Cackling like a madman, he ran to yet another room, where there were frostbite spiders. Oh well, they were weak. At least, that was what Abelas thought after digging inside their slimy bodies to extract vials of their venom. The torturer's assistant had run back to the "old man" by then. Going to the room with the bear, he woke her up and let her bite him. Then, with one Saitama-esque punch he knocked the bear out. Hadvar watched the entire time in awe and fear. Wherever he got trained, it must've been hell. Then, Abelas dragged him along, where the elf would begin his adventure.

* * *

A/N: Did you get which command it was this time? This time it wasn't really apparent, but in future chappies I'll try.


	2. Chapter 2: Riverwood

A/N: I don't intend to make consistent updates for this story; I just want to write when I want to write. Anyway, Spotify is frustrating, because every time I open it, New Divide by Linkin Park comes on. Not that I don't like the song, it's just that it's pretty annoying. But you're not here to hear about my pathetic life. You're here to read! So… enjoy.

* * *

Hello! It's me again. I'm you, and I am the enthusiastic soul of your character, Abelas! Keep in mind that there's nothing holding you back from world domination. Except the children. The children are immortal. Do not touch the children. For your safety and for others. They will hit you with their aprons until you die. It will not be a pleasant death.

* * *

Having left Helgen through the keep, Hadvar and Abelas walked on the road to Hadvar's hometown, Riverwood. Along the way, he had to be a good guide. There were a few attractions, after all.

"These are the Guardian Stones. They will help one individual skill, inexplicably. There are three stones, the Warrior Stone, which I have chosen, the Thief Stone, which is for those who would like to practice crime without getting caught-" and here he let out a noticeable _tsk_ in disapproval - "and the Mage Stone, which allows you to increase your skill in forming magicka to your will." Abelas, without hesitation, chose the Mage Stone. "Not my personal choice, but to each his own..." Hadvar trailed off as he watched Abelas running to Embershard. "Don't go there! There are bandits!" he cried to no avail. He was not anticipating with good cheer going to Riverwood on his own.

Abelas walked into the mine and saw these people with fur armor, probably bearskin or the like. He was not excited about getting into a good old-fashioned brawl with those people, because, despite his current state of immortality, he _really_ didn't like getting hit. It still hurt to get jabbed by the odd sword. So he decided to do what he had been taught to do in the _sejfïlen_ (A/N: the alternate dimension in which future Dovahkiin and hacker Dovahkiin are trained): phase into the ground. Suddenly one of the guards froze in midair with a bloody wound on his neck and two across his back. Another one went soon after. This happened one by one until the once bandit-infested Embershard Mine was clear of all save one naked Altmer. He ran and collected literally _everything_ , even the clothes off of the people who now lay slain.

He rested for 5 hours. Precisely taking the time, he stood in one place, completely frozen, until five hours had passed. Some would say that he didn't truly rest; but that's purely a matter of opinion. Having "rested", he took the time to stuff in his mouth everything from bread to kettles, seeing what he could eat and couldn't. Then, he put some fur on. Maybe it would soften the pain of that odd sword, although it would fail to dampen the loss of his family when those damned Nords had invaded their village. In any case, he was moving now. His vendetta would have to wait. Pulling the lever on the drawbridge, he walked across it and went through the door that seemed to be the other end of the mine.t

Presently, it was dark. There was still more than enough light to see, however, and so he walked toward the largest source of light, which was the Moon. Casually walking straight up as if he was walking on a flat surface, he looked like he was flying, for he had jumped and was still in his falling position, preparing for eventual impact that would never come.

From up at his "perch" he looked over Skyrim as if he was an Aedra, or perhaps the messenger of Meridia. Then he saw, with multiple mysterious powers and pauses, Hadvar's aura. So he walked toward it.

Hadvar was eating dinner with Alvor, his uncle, and the latter's wife, Sigrid, when an elf with multiple prominent scars came through the wall. Before Alvor or Sigrid could move to pull out their dagger and stab the intruder, who strangely reminded them of some girl in a picture book that they read, Hadvar cried, "Abelas!" in joy.

"Hadvar! I'm sorry I left you! Those bandits were kind of a pain, and I was wondering what that ruin was on the trail," he replied, breathlessly, as if he had been running for a long while.

"Oh, that? That's Bleak Falls Barrow. I still have nightmares about it sometimes. Draugr crawling in through my windows," he said with a shudder.

"Hah, weakling."

"Shut up."

Alvor stood up with one eyebrow raised. "Who are you, and how are you related to my nephew?"

"I was an immigrant who got captured because I wandered into a Stormcloak raid. Then I was up for execution along with Ulfric, until the _dragon_ attacked," Abelas said casually.

The blacksmith's eyes widened. "A dragon? Do tell!"

"Well, I was crossing the border, hoping to escape the Nord mix of bandits, I think it was, that had attacked my village. I loved that place. Everyone was there: Nords who were afraid of being coerced into being Stormcloak soldiers, Argonians fleeing the Black Marshes and staying away from the prejudice here, Orsimer who were similarly trying to avoid Skyrim, Altmer like me either banished from the Aldmeri Dominion or never allied to it, Bretons leaving High Rock after the Forsworn Incident, Dunmer fleeing the eruption of Red Mountain and somehow avoiding all war to trek there, Bosmer who had been there since forever, Khajiit that had left their caravans to settle down, Redguards fleeing the Alik'r, and Imperials, some of whom had been wounded in the battles of Skyrim.

"Everyone got along. The Nords were the most capable at handling cold, so they typically carried messages for those who were too used to tropical weather to go outside, mostly Argonians. Argonians were the best brewers, and they produced some great ales. I brought some but I drank them before I was captured. Khajiit made great merchants, especially since the caravans always stayed in our village for some time because it was so safe. They would use their connections and somehow there was always an abundance in our village. The Redguards made the best fighters, and were great with the forge. In case you wanted some decorative plates, they were the go-to. Orsimer were great for everything, from hunting to mining, and they always had the best luck getting supplies for the Redguards and their own forges. Beautiful weapons, they were. Us Altmer brewed potions and used our magic to heal people, while the Bosmer were great bowmen. They hunted with the Orsimer, and they cooked the best venison stews. Imperials were also great with the forge, and they healed people with us as well. Dunmer used their skills in magic to fight occasional bandit attacks, although none were the scale of that which brought our village down. Bretons were great with magic, especially conjuration, so they made the kids very cool bound swords that would disappear after a little bit before they hurt anyone. Often the children would fight each other with those specially weakened swords and wooden shields that the Orcs would make with the least bit of supplies but adorned with extravagant designs rivaling those of the White-Gold Tower.

"Then the bandits came. They were tired of our little stronghold, which was so wonderfully open and rich with resources. So they invaded it. Took everything, killed most everyone, and burned it all. We were scared, and we ran in all directions. All the people that I grew up with, just... dead. It was sickening. To this day, I still have a vendetta against the Stormcloaks, for it seems that they were in league with them. Filthy tactics are all that those bastards are good for. I fled with nobody. I traveled over the mountains, and I stayed with an Imperial camp for some time. Having honed my fighting skills and my magic, I tracked down every bandit that had invaded our village, and I killed them. My sword was so stained with blood that I threw it away. I didn't want anything in my possession to be stained with anything related to that scum. You see, I have this power that allows me to see souls with certain forms, and I had memorized their auras. That was how I found Hadvar here, too.

"After that, I traveled over the border, hoping to start a new life in Skyrim. I came at the exact wrong time, where I walked straight into an Imperial ambush. I could've sworn I recognized some of those soldiers. They marched us through Falkreath to Helgen. It was like betrayal, and the people that I knew were glaring at me so piercingly. I felt like I was being strangled. But I knew it wasn't their fault. They didn't know I hated the Stormcloaks, and by being captured with them, I had indicted myself as a spy. When we got to Helgen, some thief just ran away and got shot by the archers. I was too afraid to move, until I was rudely shoved to the chopping block. Your nephew was there supervising the execution. By that point I felt like death was a blessing straight from Akatosh. But no, the dragon attacked. It was in a weird form. I had to run to the keep, where I saw Hadvar and ran with him. After leaving Helgen, he introduced me to the Guardian Stones. Then I ran to Embershard and killed all the bandits there before I came here."

"It certainly sounds like you've been through a long journey. Come, sit down, rest, and be merry. Any friend of Hadvar's is a friend of mine."

"Thank you, thank you. I appreciate your kindness. I haven't slept in a bed for at least a few months. Perhaps it was even Rain's Seed last year. I must say, I quite miss the feeling. Do you have a hay pile? I'd hate to take one of your beds..."

"No, no! Don't, please. I'll just go to the tavern tonight."

"I'm coming with you, then," said Hadvar. "Delphine has the best mead."

"By all means," said Alvor. "I'm going to bring one hundred septims. That should be enough."

"Well, have a good night," said Abelas. "Actually..." here he flipped them fifty, "take this." And with that he went to sleep.

"Your new friend, Hadvar," Alvor said after Abelas drifted off, "is a very polite elf. I'd like his company more, but I guess he's a traveler. Make sure that he visits me, okay?"

"I will, Uncle."

* * *

They walked out, to the only inn in town, the Sleeping Giant Inn. Walking in, they saw Sven there, as usual. The Nord bard who was well-regarded as among the five best singers in the entirety of the hold of Whiterun. They handed him ten septims as a tip even before they started. Everyone loved Sven, even Faendal, both of whom were competing for Camilla Valerius' love. She was the sister of Lucan Valerius, the general goods merchant in Riverwood.

Delphine was behind the bar, as usual for this late. Orgnar had to go to sleep at some point. "Two meads, please," said Hadvar.

"No problem," she said. "It's on the house. Think of it as a homecoming gift."

"No, no, no! We need to scold him for not coming back to visit us," Alvor joked. "Double price on the mead. Use your earnings."

"Alvor..." Hadvar rolled his eyes. "Here you go, ten septims from me."

"And here is my five," Alvor winked. "I told you, he'd pay double."

"Uncle!"

"It's okay," Delphine interjected. "I'll just keep up the costs. It's not like we're low on business or anything. Especially not without Embry here."

"Ah, yes, Embry. He's a good man, but he drinks quite a bit too much," and here the gossip started, initiated by Alvor.

"Embry should get a job." "Did you hear that rumor about Hod...?" "Frodnar is up to mischief again, eh?" The gossip continued into the night.

Having filled their bellies with mead and with good company and cheer from Sven and Delphine, Alvor and Hadvar went home.


End file.
